The Horn of Africa after Meles Zenawi

Bye-bye big man

The lessons for Africa’s most troubled region from the career of its most able leader

SOME countries have a habit of suffering in unison. As in the Balkans and the Caucasus, the ethnically diverse countries of the Horn of Africa often infect one another. Ethiopia, Sudan and Somalia have all spilled internal conflicts and misrule across borders. Two historic events this week may now open up a new chapter in the Horn’s history. Both could pave the way towards greater political openness and prosperity—but only if the West applies pressure in the right way.

The first event occurred in Somalia, which convened its first parliament in living memory (see article). Representatives from all regions and clans, often warring, met in the recently liberated capital, Mogadishu; they are now expected to choose a president in a competitive, if imperfect, vote. National elections are next on the agenda. There are plainly risks: many of Somalia’s politicians are crooks; and the Shabab, an extreme Islamist militia that controlled most of the country until recently, remains a threat. But Somalia probably has its best chance of finding an inclusive government since it descended into internecine fighting and frequent famine after the overthrow of Siad Barre in 1991.

All this was, however, overshadowed by the second event: the death of Ethiopia’s prime minister (see article). Meles Zenawi, who had been in power ever since his forces ousted the Marxist junta of Mengistu Haile Mariam in 1991, was the Horn’s dominant figure and the West’s main ally in the region. How Africa interprets his legacy will matter enormously.

There is much to praise. Mr Meles lifted millions out of abject poverty and devoted himself to finding workable development policies. During his two-decade rule, Ethiopia went from being a byword for starvation to a substantial food exporter. But Mr Meles also became increasingly dictatorial. Elections were rigged and prisons filled with political activists. The bargain he foisted on his people—food for autocracy—ultimately curbed their potential. Technology, an engine of freedom as well as growth elsewhere, is reserved for the elite. Ethiopian Airlines has just become the first non-Japanese owner of Boeing’s Dreamliner aircraft, but the rate of mobile-phone use is among the lowest in the world.

Beware the myth

Many African dictators saw in Mr Meles another feature bolstering their own positions: a proof of the need for top-down government. Look, they said, 10% GDP growth and no real elections! Western leaders embraced him too—with one arm, holding their noses with the other hand. He received $4 billion in aid a year, and mostly put it to good use.

But Ethiopia is no model. Mr Meles’s death exposes the dangers of building a state around one man, no matter how competent. He leaves a powerful machine that none but he could steer. The hope is that with no leader of his stature in the wings, power will inevitably be shared. The yes-men with whom the brainy but paranoid Mr Meles surrounded himself cannot exert control alone. The fear is that members of Ethiopia’s elite may fight for control, ethnic movements on the periphery could be emboldened by a power vacuum and Eritrea might sense an opportunity to destabilise its arch-foe.

Leaders in Rwanda and Angola, two other booming strongman states, should take note. Institutions matter. Western donors have lessons to learn as well. Competence in African leaders is no substitute for fairness. Involved as it is in the fiendishly difficult process of ensuring a peaceful succession in Ethiopia and choosing a president in Somalia, the West should resist the temptation to look for another Meles. Democracy is the Horn’s best hope.